Page 149 of The Deceptions
"JJ, find those pricks so I can hunt them down and disembowel them for sport."Yeah, okay, fucking psychopath. That's what I think every time he looks at me. I'm almost positive he would do just that—end their lives. I want to make them pay, too. No one destroys that grave without consequence. But Franco's influence can only get us so fucking far.
I blow the steam off my newest cup of coffee and sigh when the bitter taste hits my taste buds. They rejoice in the caffeine keeping me awake and the taste of the nectar doing it. My brows furrow when the SUV pulls into a hotel's parking lot. Greenwood Grand Hotel. It's a newer building in Greenwood. A hotel built for the wealthier visitors coming to town and visiting the casinos in their spare time. It's in the heart of the city. Downtown. And perfect for walking to your destination. Restaurants line theroad, and a casino is on almost every corner, lighting up the space.
I lean in, my heart pounding hard, when a man emerges from the driver's seat. My eyes narrow, taking him in. He's on the shorter side—maybe five-feet six-inches, wearing black pants and a black shirt. His hair is almost buzzed, looking light in the grainy photo. The trunk of the SUV pops open, and he removes two suitcases and then stands beside the passenger's side door.
"Fuck," I grunt, clicking a few times until I find a second camera to give me a better angle of the two of them.
The passenger door swings open, and a woman emerges with long, dark hair. Her eyes immediately drop to the ground as she grabs her suitcase and walks behind the man, straight into the lobby of the hotel.
My heart pounds as I hit the keys, breaking into the hotel's camera system. My mouth goes dry when the lobby of the hotel comes into view, and the two of them hang by the front desk, getting their keys. The woman nervously looks around the lobby, licking her lips and checking over her shoulder. There's a nervous tilt to her as her breaths come in heavily, heaving her chest.
Tears burn the back of my eyes the moment she lifts her head, exposing the marks on her face. The mark on her throat. The things that weren't there before. No.
"No, no, no," I hiss, backing away from my laptop. My heart slams into my ribs and tears roll down my fucking cheeks. "NO!" I shout, pulling at the ends of my hair. Heaving a few breaths, I force myself back to my computer and follow them to their suite.
I don't know who the fuck he is. But her...
Her...
It can't be her. I have to be seeing shit. She's dead. She's in the ground, in the cemetery just twenty feet away. I visit her fucking grave. I watched as she was lowered into the ground.
No.
It absolutely can't be her. It has to be someone who looks exactly like she did. Or a little different. She's older. More mature than Olivia would have been. Her face is... I swallow the lump in my throat, zooming in on the woman in the lobby. The woman who absolutely can't be fucking Olivia. No. She's a lookalike. That's all there is to it. No matter how many similarities I find as she walks with the mysterious man to their room, dragging her suitcase behind her.
My heart drops when I lose them to their room on the top floor. The video continues, displaying their hallway. Time ticks by. This is them. They came from the SUV that damaged Livy's grave. I followed it from the dark graveyard all through town, never losing sight of it.
It's them.
And...
I cock my head when breakfast comes on a cart and the man answers the door, wheeling it inside. His head stays down, so I can't make him out. The cameras on the inside of the hotel are of way better quality than the ones on the outside. Now that I've pinpointed the people who occupied the SUV, I can watch their moves and hack into the hotel's registry to hopefully get a name for them. From there, I can easily track them down.
On a separate window, still giving me a view of the hotel room, I hack into the hotel's guest list, checking through the room numbers.
Jonathan Viotto.
I sit back in my chair. Bile rises in my throat. Viotto? I shake my head. No. This has to be a goddamn trick of the mind. But how common is that last name? Viotto. I hang my head, shaking it. Nope. This is a mistake. I'm missing something. Bringing my gaze back to the computer screen, I reread the name assigned to that room. Two guests. One name. Jonathan Viotto.
Something rattles in my chest. Something that feels like the depths of hope, overpowering the despair I've felt for years. We've always been in the dark about the day Olivia died. Maybe her family is back in town to... to...
My thoughts trail off when she comes out of the room, rage contorting her face. I pause the footage and take her in. She doesn't bother to hide her gaze as she looks straight ahead. Her familiar brown eyes narrowing down the hall. Her fingers curl into fists like she's ready to take someone down. I keep her image there, staring and staring until my eyes play tricks on me.
It can't be. I just… I can't believe it.
She looks... She looks so much like Olivia. Yet, slightly different. There are scars lining her face. They're faded, like whatever happened was a long time ago and not recently. There’s tension there. Anguish. Every emotion swirling in her eyes. The same eyes I used to stare into under the stars.
I press play on the video, following her everywhere and keeping my eyes on her. She travels down the sidewalk, lost in thought, until she lands at a bar—X Marks the Spot. I snort when her nose wrinkles, and I don't even register more tears falling down my cheeks when she goes inside. From there, I watch her carefully from their surveillance footage, recoiling when fucking Malic Monroe shows his fucking face and takes her down a hallway that has no cameras. I'm fuming by the time she emerges, blissed out, and holding a piece of paper.
Fuck.
I continue to watch as she makes her way back to the hotel.
And I watch when she emerges again as someone I've seen around campus. Someone I've had a suspicion of. Someone with short hair and baggy clothes.
Oliver Davenport.
And if the feeling in my gut is telling me anything, it’s that I need to have a long discussion with the person behind the Oliver mask.
